Pick On Somebody Your Own Size
by TapTapAlways
Summary: Dumbledore died. But before he did, he also picked next year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, figuring that now they'd need one more than ever. And he picked... well, he really didn't pull his punches with the Dark Lord. At all.
1. The First Step

_The plotbunny got to me because of Alexis Darn - it's unusual to find a character that's as powerful as he is (especially an arguably good one - though he's perhaps more on the side of the angels than actually one, except literally), and I wanted to play with that power-imbalance. Because seriously, Voldemort up against what is essentially another Voldemort? Yes, please!_

_I mean no copyright infringement and do not claim to own anything that isn't mine. Harry Potter and University Strange belong to J. K. Rowling and L. H. Westerlund, respectively, (because nobody in fantasy has an actual first name apparently!) and this story is meant only for entertainment._

_TapTap_

Maybe it was simply the way of the fighter to be somewhat late to social functions. Mad-Eye Moody had been late to the feast at the start of term, and the new professor - or rightly professors, actually - that Dumbledore had unbeknownst to anybody else apparently appointed in advance were several weeks late for the beginning of term.

So much so, in fact, that Snape was the new headmaster, the Carrow siblings had taken up reign as the professors of the newly renamed Dark Arts, and Neville had already started to gather up a small following in the Room of Necessity. They were really very late.

The two new professors walked up between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables during dinner one evening, seemingly entirely unaffected by the grim atmosphere of the hall. "Dumbledore asked for our help to teach for a year," the pale, darkhaired man told Snape; the two of them did not look entirely unlike actually. They even had the same lightly grumpy facial expression, and neither had apparently ever heard of a hairbrush.

"You're _very_ late," Snape neglected to answer, so it was McGonagall's pinched voice which finally responded to the man's statement.

"Well, he died before he told me when." The man shrugged, seemingly unmoved. "I never learn - mortals are mighty fragile this way. He wished for help to teach Defence Against Dark Arts."

There was an unpleasant smile from the current holders of that position. "Dark Arts," the sister told them in a malevolent tone. The man laughed and turned to his companion, voice a lot lighter than the hall had seen in some time. "Well, I'll take that, you do the defence!" The companion, looking a bit egyptian or even african from his - if it was indeed a he - colouring and features, snickered in response, sounding utterly at ease.

That was when a first-year, a nervous soul already before he and his class-mates started being used for spell-practise, upturned a goblet. The brother of the dispicable twins rose and lifted his wand; obvious to everyone he intended not to clean up, but to harm the young boy. He never got the chance; both his replacements raised their hands - needing no wands apparently - and intercepted him. He was back in his spot, wand down, before anyone knew what had happened.

Both siblings rose as one, completely outraged, but this time the two new arrivals were not inclined to show mercy. Both Deatheaters were dead before they could even touch the floor, no spells apparent. Nor, for that matter, much movement.

The hall was silent for a heartbeat, then McGonagall started to tell them off for putting the students in danger by acting out against "You-Know-Who".

The darkskinned new teacher - looking entirely more sympathetic than his colleage/friend, tilted his head and kindly told her, cutting off the tirade, "Excuse me, Ms...? I'm sorry to say, actually I _don't_ know..."

_The fact that Charl looks egyptian is extrapolated from Westerlund's twitter - apparently they first meet in ancient egypt, and Djinns are mainly african-ish legends, so I improvised. I've no idea if it's right, the book ignores skincolours being a thing. Then again so does Harry Potter, so maybe it's a fantasy thing._

_TapTap_


	2. The First Fight

_Don't own anything I didn't make up on my own. And there's not even any OCS._

_Reading hearts is from LotR, but... well! It's already a preposterous mix!_

_TapTap_

McGonagall stared at the man with wide eyes. "Excuse me?!"

"We aren't from here. But Dumbledore asked us to come - he seemed to think we might be able to help." The answer was kind, and so was the man's smile. "Children are important to someone as old as we two are," he gestured towards his friend. "And apparently these are in danger somehow. From this person you speak of?" Once again he - if he was indeed the correct pronoun, he did not seem quite human, the way a centaur´s face did not, already before you looked down - smiled kindly. "Not because of you, I am sure. And maybe, this is why you might need us."

"Charl," the winged man, who had stood dead still, facing Snape all this time, as if reading his heart, spoke suddenly and with steel in his voice. "We've got incoming!" The egyptian didn't seem at all worried. Then again, nor did his friend - just more excited by the prospect. He was not quite in charge of the two, but anybody could see that if they had to fight, then he was. Besides this, it was also very clear that strategy was between these two, no one else. They were simply positive they'd need no help whatsoever. The kinder man spoke effectively, but with little upset. "How do you want to play it?"

"Protect the children for me please, shield them off." The angel, because in the sudden light of thunder from above his wings were shining in purple and white, turned to the teachers. "If you cannot protect yourself, get to the children. Maybe you should anyway."

There was no time for either movement or for McGonagall to tell them off again. The Deatheaters couldn't apparate in, but they _could_ get nearby and walk. And already, they heard them in the entrance hall. It seemed their new teacher had sensed them somehow the moment they first set fot outside the school grounds.

All the professors rose as one, even Snape, though he was far more deliberate than the rest.

The black-clothed gathering at the door moments later was lead by Greyback, some of them masked, not all. Several very young wizards and witches were standing amongst them. These apparent new recruits were all very pale. Most of them were former school mates, a year or two out. One of them was Draco Malfoy.

These young wizards were suddenly hit with a force which didn't even look like magic, and their knees gave out as one. Before they could hit the ground, they were lifted and hung, one by one, unconsious, up against the wall behind the Slytherin table where not all of them had once belonged.

The rest of the Deatheaters picked up their pace towards the head table, and nothing stopped them. They stepped hurriedly through the hall, in utter silence, filing out around the head table in a menacing mass. Once the last one of them had passed the last student, a big wall of a ghostly nature rose behind them, still letting them see the students, but yet trapping them there.

In the middle of the magical barrier, not like any barrier anyone had ever seen before, stood the kind almost-man, smiling in a friendly way still. He even waved slightly to the Deatheaters, not a hostile fiber in his entire being. His friend seemed amused by it.

"Can I help you?" The angel stood tall and angelic between the head table and the Deatheaters, by the looks of it not nervous in the least. "You killed the Carrow siblings," Greyback snarled, making the man before him raise a distinctly unimpressed eyebrow. "Who was it?!"

"Yes I did," the angel responded almost carelessly. "He raised his wand at a child. I gave warning, and then I killed them both as they attacked. So to answer your question, it was me."

"And who are you?!" A masked Deatheater croaked. He was answered simply, by the man the angel had called 'Charl'. "We are the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Well, I am. My friend Alexis here seems more inclined to teach the Dark Arts themselves. He would." Oddly, he smiled over at this friend, as if they _weren't_ in a life-threatening situation. "It's not the first time."

The Deatheaters stared, then they simply raised their wands. Several students screamed.

The angel genuinely rolled his eyes, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. His enemies all lifted and fell with a sickening crunch against the magical boundary, several paces behind them. Nobody got up. It sure looked like they were all dead. They ought to have been. Charl sighed. "Really, Alexis? Was that necessary? They'll just send more."

"Yes. Until the leader gets pissed off and comes to kill me themselves." Charl looked surprised at this answer. "Oh. That's your plan. Ok then."

"You cannot kill the wizard who cannot be mentioned!" Flitwich chimed in, voice high pitched. "Mention him, no. Kill him, sure I can." Alexis seemed almost casual. His friend laughed, starting to adjust his shield. "Only reason we cannot mention him is that nobody will tell us his name!"

Alexis came up to stand beside his friend, making a rolling gesture with his stretched out arm, getting the young Deatheaters down from the wall, gently putting them down, still unconsious, within the protection. His moderate motions reminded all in the hall who still remembered it of Dumbledore, back that time when he effortlessly made sleeping bags for them all.

This time, there was a few moments before backup came. Apparently, no one had expected this force to fail. Neither one of their new teachers made a move to confront Snape, but then again they didn't know.

Charl did approach McGonagall and get a tiny bit of an explanation of the lay of the land, plus urge her and her colleaguesto accept his protection. In the end, the professors all switched side in the hall, ending up standing nearer to the doors, within their new allies' shield, when the great entrance hall gave them notice once again.

This time, Dolohov himself was leading the force, and Bellatrix Lestrange was bringing up the rear, mad as the day she was released from Azkaban.

Dolohov started addressing Snape, when he took an apparent spell to the chest and just collapsed unimpressively. As his colleagues looked around for the caster - no one from Hogwarts had their wands out, though they all held them tightly under their robes at this point - but Alexis smiled dangerously, spending the next few seconds systematically tossing the Deatheaters into walls and each other, untill only Bella stood up.

"Go find your master. Come tell him not to be such a cowardly fool and try me on for size himself," he goaded her, laughing cruelly as she ran. Charl rolled his eyes. "Really, Alex. We are too old to do the murderous lunatic act, don't you think?"

"Well maybe, and for you, but it was never an _act_ on my part!" Alexis turned to, curiously, both Snape and McGonagall, his tones suddenly warmer than they'd been before. "You've protected the students like he wished. _Trust_ me, and let me take it from here."

This was the time when Neville and his band made their appearance, curiously urged into the protection by Snape a moment before McGonagall reached out. He was as concerned as she was, thought not as apparent. And perhaps a little less overwelmed, though she was coping well considering the circumstances, better than most of the rest of them. Of course.

The Order arrived, because everybody expected an ill-advised battle at this point, and McGonagall knew better than not to keep everybody informed. It was too late to stop it, so they'd have to make do.

They didn't have long after this point, before the Dark Lord made it his mission to crash the party.


	3. The Final Fight

_This is already the end. I have a new understanding for why University Strange is shortish!_

_Don't own a thing from other people's books. (Including Tolkien because I've gone there again...)_

_TapTap_

Voldemort sort of glided in through the front doors. They had tried to slow him down by any means they could - McGonagall had a number of tricks up her sleeve, including but not limited to making Seamus Finnegan and Neville Longbottom blow up the bridge the Deatheaters were walking across, and making the suits of armor themselves fight. It hadn't helped much, and the two new professors had merely seemed to tolerate it; Alexis leaning against a wall looking for all intents and purposes asleep, and Charl merely making sure that by the time anyone could enter, everyone was under his protection.

So there they stood, the Order of the Phoenix and the Professors of Hogwarts behind Charl, students protected behind their backs, facing off against an army of Deatheaters.

Voldemort was at their front, dressed in black and pale as death, Bellatrix Lestrange at his right side, pointing shakily at the two new professors - especially Alexis. They still hadn't learnt his last name.

"Who is this foolish man who challenges me? Don't you know no living man can kill me?!"

"Well, I'm not exactly a man, and he's not all that alive. Traditionally in angel mythology he should have died like... _millenia_ ago!" Charl shrugged lightheartedly, as if they were merely sitting down for a polite chat. Then again, it seemed like _he_ sort of _was_.

Voldemort glowered. He was clearly stunned with this obvious lack of respect; unusued to opposition as he was, but Alexis broke the stalemate by laughing. Not nervously, just... like his friend was being funny. And maybe knowing what he did, he _was_!

Voldemort tried to break the shield, then, by sending the killing curse at it with some force. That's when a big avalance of stones fell from seemingly nowhere and buried most of the Deatheaters alive. Or dead, more likely.

Alexis laughed again. "Nice one!" Apparently this wasn't his spell. Charl shrugged modestly, giving his old friend a smile. Then his face soured, and he whipped back around to stare at the rubble. "Alex, he didn't die!"

"_What_?!" The angel blinked. "Right... he's bound here somehow. Can you break the strings?"

Charl shook his head, rather violently, while they all just watched the two in shock. "Not without the things, I can't. It's something tangible. It's _items_... holding pieces of his, well, soul for lack of a better word!"

Alexis seemed to weigh this up, tilted his head, and then shrugged. He suddenly drew a circle on the floor with nothing but will, not even turning his head, making it explode in colours around him. The next moment, a number of assorted items fell down around him, and last of all Harry, Ron and Hermione thudded down as well.

Charl looked questioningly at Ron and Hermione. Alexis shrugged, apparently a bit embaressed. "Just snatching one seemed rude, he mumbled." Charl beamed.

Whispers now ran through the hall, then most of Gryffindor's table ran to hug the newcomers. They had no idea why they were here, but it made all the sense to summon the chosen one for this, now didn't it? No one noticed - except Snape - how Charl placed a hand on Potter's neck and seemed to draw away green smoke. The hall was so dusty from all that fallen stone already.

Alexis was busy doing the same with the other items, the snake last of all. Once the grey mist was out of the snake, both friends stepped before it together, focusing hard. Someone screamed. The snake melted away, and there was a beautiful asian woman, staring at them as if dazed. And no wonder.

There was no time for more of an explanation; no doubt there was one, but now Voldemort had climbed out of the rubble with the help of his wand, and together with the remaining Deatheaters (like, five of them that the stone he triggered had missed) he was out for blood. Perhaps, he didn't notice the Horrocuxes on the floor. Likely, he didn't know that woman half-blocked from him was his Nagini. It was hard to know what he would have felt if he did.

Harry Potter was many things, but all of them were in favour of meeting Voldemort head on, with a stupify meeting the lethal spell before anybody else could move.

The shield had seemingly gone down with the rubble, and to general surprise Snape was the one to duel Bellatrix Lestrange. The Deatheaters stod absolutely no chance, all the Order and the Professors there, even if the newcomers were ushering children back, not fighting. They knew they did not need to.

Charl did speak the spell that blocked one of Voldemort's attacks, many others did the same. In the end, he fell for a reflection from one them of his own curse, not Harry's stupify, when the Chosen One called him by his old name, distracting him for just one second. It was all it took, hopelessly outnumbered and bereaved of the last of his Horrocruxes.

There was one casualty, in the end. One student hit by a fatal curse, and some bruises and bumps on order members they themselves cared about least of all. And they sat there together, house tables be damned, after the battle while the professors - old and new - cleaned Hogwarts up.

It was Alexis, rebuilding the bridge with McGonagall, who calmly assured her what he'd seen in Snape's heart, confirming what they'd all seen. It was Snape himself, looking into those all-familiar green eyes much later, who told Harry the real truth. They never got close, but when the new professors eventually left and Harry took up position as Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts-Teacher, they surprised everyone with their amicable relationship.

All was well.


End file.
